An Interesting Case
by Bel9
Summary: There is another killer loose in London, but no clues are left at any of the murders. Cue Sherlock and John. Something isn't quite right though, why is Mycroft intent on preventing them from talking to the one witness that could crack the case?
1. The New Case

**I'm obsessed with Sherlock at the moment and i just had to write something, the evil plot bunnies just wouldn't leave me alone!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

The wet dull buildings of London sped by as Sherlock urged the taxi driver to go ever faster along the soaked streets. It was raining again, the kind of rain that falls in sheets and makes you want to curl up by the fire in a nice warm blanket feeling contented in the knowledge that you do not have to endure the weather outside. Instead, John Watson had been dragged out by his highly excitable flatmate who simply would not go to the latest crime scene without his faithful blogger despite the fact that it was already the early hours of the morning and the aforementioned blogger had the early shift later on at the clinic.

The genius detective had been deprived of cases for a while and Sherlock's enthusiasm at a break from his oppressive boredom was almost unbearable. This was though actually an improvement, as the almost unbearable excitement was definitely an improvement on the definitely unbearable ways by which Sherlock had attempted to keep himself entertained. John had seriously considered asking Sarah if he could sleep at hers to avoid the many suspicious marks and unidentifiable fluids that had damaged and stained the flat over the last few days.

Of course for John, Lestrade's call could not have come at a worse time, he had already fallen asleep at work once and being deprived of sleep at 2:30am would do nothing for his job performance. The detective seemed blissfully unaware of this fact however and had made sure that he got out of bed anyway. Sometimes being the flatmate of Sherlock Holmes could be very trying.

It did not take too long for them to reach the crime scene that had caused all of John's tired frustration and Sherlock's glee. Lestrade was waiting for them at a length of police cordon tape that had been stretched out across the entrance to a dark alleyway, and behind him stood both Anderson and Donovan. Well they would certainly complete the miserable mood that the incessant pouring rain had caused.

Both detective and doctor were soaked within minutes of getting out of the cab and from what they could see so were the three police officers, despite the fact that all policemen present wore large fluorescent coats that lit up in the dark every time one got anywhere near a lamp post.

It was so dark and wet that Sally did not even bother with her customary welcome insult and instead settled for a silent glare in Sherlock's direction as Lestrade began his explanation. Anderson appeared as if he were about to shoot some venomous comment their way however right at that moment a passing car that was going far too fast caused a puddle to splash up and all over any part of him that was not already soaked through. He forewent anything he was about to say in favour of a few choice oaths.

"Two victims, one dead and another one badly injured. This is the third set of killings in the last fortnight, it wouldn't be so odd but all victims have been killed with the same MO. We could have another serial killer on our hands."

Sherlock was already looking rather bored, rain running down his face and making his dark hair look black. "So why do you need me if you have a live witness?"

"The man is unfortunately too badly injured to question at the moment, the paramedics are still working on him and I've been informed that it's unlikely that he will survive the night. Even if he does, looking at the current rate there will be more murders before he is able to talk and we'd rather like to avoid that."

Sherlock did not offer a reply as they had reached a prone body lying on the ground. It was a man who looked to be in his early forties with black hair greying at the edges. He lay in a pool of blood and water that was quickly running to the wall at the end of the alleyway and forming a large puddle tinted with red in the torch light.

Without speaking, Holmes gestured for the Doctor to assess the body; John assumed that he wanted a cause of death. It did not take long for him to find one, a thin but wide blade inserted once through the back and into the heart and also once through both lungs. Lestrade told them that the other man had been attacked in the same way but had fought and managed to prevent fatal damage.

Once this had been ascertained, Sherlock bent to see what he could possibly find that the gathering water had not already obliterated.

"Rich, married to at least two people one of which he cares nothing for but the other he loves, big in the criminal world." He began typing fast on his phone as he continued to study the man, "Ah, no not criminal, government, undercover then. Thomas Marshall, 34, reported missing about twelve hours ago."

"Care to explain, psychopath?" Donovan finally spoke acidly.

Sherlock was about to reply when a cool familiar voice sounded as Mycroft Holmes walked towards them down the alleyway.

"Its sociopath, actually, as I'm sure Sherlock has corrected many times. You might do well to listen to him for once. The man's clothes and well manicured nails show his wealth, it is obvious that he is married to two people because the wedding ring he is wearing is dirty and not well cared for, regularly in a pocket with keys and coins by the looks of it so he does not love this woman. The ring he wears on the chain around his neck, however is clean. It is also worn frequently as, while the outside has picked up a little dust since the last time he cleaned it the inside is spotless so is regularly put on. This wife he loves. If he only loves one woman then, why is he married to the other, it is obviously as some kind of cover and the most likely reason for this is governmental work."

"I take it the man is one of your lackeys then, as you can't possibly see the body that well from over there." Sherlock's voice was cold and slightly petulant, he did not like bring robbed of the chance to show his skill.

"Yes, his dear wife will be heartbroken," he winced, "unfortunately Layla will never forgive me if I send someone else round with the news. Anyway, it's the other man I've come about, you are to leave him out of your investigation, forget that he ever existed."

Lestrade looked at him as if he were mad, "He's the only live victim we have; he might have vital information!"

"Don't worry I'm sure the three of you will be able to work around him, or can you not do it without him Sherlock?"

John was surprised that Mycroft was being so obvious in his attempt to manipulate his brother, but it soon occurred to him that he didn't need to be subtle. Sherlock would probably see through any attempt at subterfuge, but this was an open challenge, a question of his intellect and Sherlock's pride could only let him respond in one way;

"Easy."

Then he promptly turned his back and marched off into the night, leaving Mycroft with a small smirk on his face.

When they finally got back into the flat, Sherlock turned to him, "You'll probably want to go back to bed, I know how you seem to require a ridiculous amount of sleep each night and we have somewhere to be in a few hours."

"We do?"

"Of course we do, we need to get to Bart's to speak to that other man."

"But I thought you told Mycroft that-"

"If Mycroft thinks that he has succeeded in baiting me then he is much less likely to place a large guard on the victim therefore making it easier for us to question him, do you see?"

"So you were only acting?"

"Of course I was; I'm not so stupid as to fall into Mycroft's traps, how simple the world must seem to you, you shouldn't take everything at face value."

John simply shook his head and went to bed. He could tell that it would be a long day tomorrow if Sherlock was going to insist on pitting himself against his brother, perhaps he had better call Sarah and see if he could cancel all his appointments for the day.

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	2. Surveillance at the Hospital

The sun was just rising and the rain easing off as Mycroft Holmes finally returned to his large manor house after breaking the news to Layla of her husband's death. She had not taken it well and had screamed and shouted at him for a very long time; cursing him for putting her husband in such a dangerous situation and ultimately blaming him for his death. He had calmly endured her grief before leaving her in peace. He had however called Mummy, she and Layla were very good friends and she would never have forgiven him had he not.

He entered the house quietly, not bothering to call his butler who was probably still asleep. Perhaps he would be able to catch at least a few hours sleep before his assistant arrived to take him to that meeting with the Russian ambassador later. Personally Mycroft simply could not stand the man who had a very imperious attitude (probably due to childhood insecurities) and smelled perpetually of stale smoke.

He had reached his bedroom before his hopes of any sleep at all that night were completely dashed. Sitting serenely upon his bed, as if she were merely admiring the painted scenes he had commissioned on his ceiling last year, was a young woman. It did not take him long to guess who she was and the knowledge most certainly did not make him happy. She turned to him with a steely glint in her eyes.

"Mycroft Holmes where is my brother?"

On second thoughts he would have to cancel the Russian meeting. Actually, knowing her, he would probably have to cancel all his appointments for the whole day.

The sun had taken the place of the torrential rain by the time that Sherlock woke John up for the second time that morning, happily announcing that he had already called the clinic and told them that he was not coming in. The Doctor chose not to ask just exactly what he had told Sarah, the damage had undoubtedly already been done and there was nothing that he could do about it. He would take care of damage control when the case was over and he had enough time to address the numerous disasters that Sherlock had doubtlessly wrought.

They took another cab to the hospital. Sometimes John wondered just how much Sherlock paid for his transport as he never seemed to travel in any other way; it probably came close to his part of the rent!

Sherlock was busy plotting (with only half of his mind, the other half was busy solving his latest case.) He knew that, even though Mycroft did not expect him there would still be some security. Thankfully they would be unprepared and so would not be on the lookout for their face, however even he had to admit that sometimes he seemed to be perhaps a little less inconspicuous than John seemed to think the situation called for. After all John was the one that knew how society worked.

This line of reasoning inevitably concluded in the need for a disguise. As Watson was already a doctor, it would be a simple matter to steal him a white coat and, voila! He would blend in as if he had always been there. A wheelchair would conceal Sherlock himself as a patient, all John would have to do was push it and they had a free ticket to anywhere in the hospital without the government men becoming even slightly suspicious.

As John went to find out the location of the man they wished to speak to, Sherlock set about 'acquiring' what they would need.

Sherlock, when focusing on a plan, completely disregarded all other people who were not vital to the success of the plan. Due to this, an old man who had struggled to pull himself up in order to see over the reception desk to address the young lady behind it had his wheelchair stolen from behind him while his attention was elsewhere. By the time he attempted to lower himself back into it, discovering its removal due to a rather sudden collision with the floor, Sherlock was long gone.

The lab coat was, if anything, easier. Sherlock simply waltzed into the hospital cafe near to the entrance and picked up a lab coat that had been hanging on the back of a chair while its owner went to the toilet.

While all this was taking place, John had been trying to work out a way to find out what room the victim they wished to speak to was in. He had been planning just to go up to the desk and ask however had found a significant problem in that they did not actually know the man's name. If he asked the receptionist she would certainly ask for a name.

He decided that this called for acting worthy of Sherlock himself and so put on the exact same worried face he had had when visiting Harry after she was hospitalised after a drunken car accident, he approached a nurse who was coming from the direction of the IC ward in the hope that she had seen the patient they were looking for.

"Hi, I think my brother's here the police said he was attacked and he's in intensive care with three stab wounds?"

The nurse's eyes lit up with recognition, "Yes I've seen you're brother just now, don't worry he hasn't woken up yet but he's just come out of surgery which went very well. He's in room 102 just down that corridor."

John thanked her profusely and went to find his flatmate. By the time that he got back to Sherlock he found him waiting with his disguise. It did not take long for Sherlock to fill him in on the plan but John was still slightly sceptical. He felt it would probably work better to say they were family as it would give them a definite excuse to be in the room which they would not have as doctor and patient but, used to the detective's unorthodox methods, he relented without comment.

Unbeknownst to John, Sherlock in fact had a very good reason for not posing as family, Mycroft's guards were no doubt fully aware of who the patients family were and would easily be able to spot that it wasn't them. Actually he was quite proud of how well his flatmate's detective skills must be improving if he had had the sense not to suggest such an obvious notion!

They got in to the hospital room without too much trouble. It was one of those twin rooms with two beds and a curtain separating them. One of the beds was unoccupied so Sherlock instructed John to lie on it and took the coat for himself. That way he could just be a doctor checking on his patient. John did not bother to point out that this was an intensive care ward and he didn't look very ill. Sherlock was too excited about finally reaching his man to care.

The man lying in the other bed did not look good. His face looked pale as a ghost and his bare chest was wrapped in bandages. Sherlock began a monologue of deduction.

"Foreign, some sort of government worker, very high up. Most likely why Mycroft didn't want us talking to him, though I can't imagine we could do any damage to his negotiations. Ah, no, not diplomat, assassin. Good cover though. That definitely tells us why Mycroft didn't want us near him then."

This knowledge chilled John. The victim was an assassin, why was he here then? Who was he going to kill? Perhaps it was a good thing that he had been attacked then, maybe it had been self defence from the target of his mission. Then a worse thought hit him, was he employed by Moriarty?

If it had been anybody else, there would have been no point in sneaking into a hospital room just to see an unconscious man but he knew that Sherlock, who was still muttering to himself, would get a lot merely from observation. Personally he just saw an unconscious man who looked unlikely to make it to the end of the week judging by the chart on the tables between the two beds, but who knew what the brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes had picked up?

It did not take long for Sherlock to complete his muttered examination of the man and he wasted no time in announcing that it was time to leave before turning on his heel and walking out. He said it as if John had been deliberately slowing him down rather than waiting patiently, but left his flatemate in a moral dilemma owing to the fact that he had left the stolen items sitting by the bed. A big part of John told him that it was not right to leave them where they were when people could be out looking for them; however the practical side of his brain said that he would lose Sherlock if he wasted time returning them, and then he might have to pay for his own cab back to Baker Street!

Across London the second Holmes watched his brother and the doctor leave the room on a large computer monitor sitting on the desk in his study. He turned to the woman sitting beside him.

"So you see I think we can both solve our problems by simply letting him get on with it. Sherlock Holmes will lead us to the perpetrator without either of us being officially involved."

The woman smiled and nodded, the plan was a good one.

**I would love a review to tell me how this is going**** please?**


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